


Memories (Someone We'll Never Meet)

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Gratuitous Poetry, Impending Heartbreak, My First Work in This Fandom, Telepathy Shenanigans, The Reef, Work In Progress, the awoken - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: The journey an Awoken child takes from the Reef, to Earth and to the Last City.





	1. Chapter 1

Any child of the Reef understands the importance of The Rules and often have them committed to memory long before they are capable of writing them down. Obey your parents. Listen to your teachers. Respect the Queen. Always ask permission before Linking with someone. Stay away from the airlocks. Never waste water.

Sofia is eight years old and beginning to grasp that The Rules are not just for children. She has a vague understanding that her very existence is a result of her parents following The Rules diligently enough to be granted permission to have a child. Now and then, she’ll ask her parents if she’ll ever have a brother or sister. After all, the Queen has a brother, why shouldn’t she? Mama always smiles and says they must wait and see what They say (“They” are the people who make The Rules but she’s not entirely sure who “They” are beyond the Queen and Prince Uldren). If They think the hydroponics bay is producing enough food, if They think there is enough potable water, if They think the atmospheric systems can handle it, then They may authorise that tiny, longed-for population increase.

Papa seldom says anything when she asks, he just sighs and clenches his jaw. Very occasionally, he will mutter something along the lines of, “It shouldn’t matter what They think,” Mama always shoots him a warning look and he does not say any more. Papa does not much like Them, or the Queen, so Sofia has one extra rule to remember: Never repeat what Papa says about the Queen outside.

Sofia is bored. She has finished her homework, Mama is out working in the hangar bay and Papa is at home but he is reading. He is always reading, every chance he gets. Mama often teases Papa about it, she says he should have been a Cryptarch. She is not really joking though, not _really._ She probably would have preferred that, she would worry about him a lot less. Sofia knows Papa is smart, definitely smart enough to be a Cryptarch but she just cannot imagine him being cooped up in the libraries of 10 Hygiea. Besides, that is another thing Papa likes to mutter about, he does not approve of the Cryptarchy’s obsession with locking knowledge away in engrams.

Sofia walks circuits of their modest quarters, performatively sighing and swinging her arms.  “What’s the matter?” Papa asks, peering at her over his book. She crosses over to him, taking some satisfaction from the fact that her theatrics succeeded in distracting him from his studies.

“ ‘M bored,” she mumbles, flopping against Papa’s side, as though the ennui is so crushing she can barely stand. “Can we go to the observation deck? I’m bored.” In these moments, Sofia thinks she would like to be a Corsair like Papa. The Reef is so confining with so little space and so many rules, it must be exciting to explore beyond the asteroid belt, salvage ships, fight off marauding Fallen (but oh, how Mama would worry if both her husband and daughter were to venture into such danger).

“No, it’s nearly time for your bed,” Papa replies. His tone of voice is not too stern but he has a way of making it clear that his word is final.

“It’s too cramped in here, I want to see the stars.”

“I can take you tomorrow, I’m off-duty.” He smiles faintly, “If you think this is cramped, you should have seen the pod your mother and I were assigned after we got married. It wasn’t much more than a wardrobe. This is positively palatial compared to that.”

“They could have given us a window,” she complains sullenly before launching into another dramatic sigh. “Papa, I'm _bored!”_ She emphases the last syllable, drawing it out because Papa clearly did not hear her the first two times she said it.

“Come here, Starshine,” he pats his knee, motioning for her to sit, “come read with me.”

Sofia wrinkles her nose, they make her read in school. She never understood why Papa reads for fun but she clambers into his lap nevertheless. She peers at the title at the top of the page: _This Lime Tree Bower My Prison._ She immediately starts firing questions at him:

“What’s a lime tree?”

“It’s a tree that limes grow on.”

“What’s a lime?”

“It’s a type of fruit, we don’t have them here, they only grow on Earth”

“What are they like?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tasted one. They’re green, I know that much.”

“Oh. What’s a bower?”

“It’s…” Papa pauses to search for the right words. “It’s like a shelter formed from tree branches.”

“So, someone chopped off the branches and built it?”

“No, no, the trees grow that way, it’s a natural canopy.” Sofia frowns, trying hard to visualise something that could come into being without being designed, crafted and manufactured by people. The only world Sofia has ever known consists of the man-made and space, nothing else.

“How can that be a prison?” Sofia doesn’t know much about trees, having never seen a tree in real life but she is fairly certain you cannot lock someone up in one.

“Why don’t we read on and find out?”

It takes a long time for them to reach the end of the poem. They take frequent breaks for Sofia to ask the meanings of certain words or to insist that Papa describe natural phenomena that he has no more direct experience of than she does. He does not begrudge the near constant interruptions, he never loses his patience. He is happy to take the time to explain that no, leaves do not have to be green, they can be other colours too, or that a rook is a type of crow (no, not like Prince Uldren’s crows, this is a real bird) and yes, waterfalls do exist. Sofia says she understands but the look of wonder on her face at the thought of such an abundance of water suggests she does not truly grasp it.

“What do you think?” Papa asks once the barrage of questions ends.  
  
“If he was so sad, why didn’t he just go with his friends?”

“I don’t think he could, I’m not sure why. We’ll have to ask the Cryptarchs if anyone knows.” Papa runs his finger across the final lines of the poem, “But it didn’t really matter by the end, did it?”

Sofia considers her answer. “No, because he was happy that his friends were happy.” She sits up straight as a thought occurs to her. “How did he see what they did? Was he Linking with them?”

Papa laughs softly, “No. No Sofie, he just imagined being with them. This was written by a human, hundreds of years ago. Humans can’t Link.”

Sofia settles back down and rests her head against Papa’s chest. She feels a sudden pang of sympathy for her human cousins back on Earth. She mentally reaches out to her father, tugging gently at the edges of his thoughts.  The response is instantaneous. Suddenly he is there, in her head, his mind enveloping hers like a blanket.

“What’s wrong, Starshine?”

“You said humans can’t Link. It must be lonely,” The sensations of warmth and safety emanating from Papa compound her sadness. She cannot imagine what it must be like to never feel her parents’ love for her. She doesn’t want to.

“Well,” he begins in a reassuring tone, “you can’t feel the loss of something if you’ve never experienced it, so they’re probably okay.”

“That’s not true. You’ve never been to Earth but you miss it. That’s why you read about it all the time.”

Papa does not try to deny it, he cannot lie to her, not while they are Linked. “I...I’m curious about it. I’m not sure we should have abandoned it.”

“It does sound nice.” Her melancholy gives way to a sharp spike of excitement that echoes around Papa’s mind like birdsong. “Does water _really_ fall from the sky on Earth?”

“It does. There’s rain, rivers, oceans. More water than you could ever dream of.”

“Can we go there?” She has a feeling that this is most likely against The Rules so she adds, “One day?”

“Perhaps.” Sofia senses a hint of frustration in his emotions. “It depends what They say.”

Sofia sighs. _Them_ again. “We’ll go,” she states, her childish confidence is an unstoppable force that has not encountered the immovable object of politics yet. “We will.”

“Your mother would have to agree to it as well. She might take more convincing than the Queen.”

“Just tell her about the water.” Sofia is convinced this strategy cannot fail because Mama hates water rationing.

“I’ll do that.”

“Will Mama be home soon?” Sofia swallows a yawn, determined to stay awake until her mother returns from work.

“Not for a while yet.” Sofia can feel her eyelids growing heavy so she curls into Papa's embrace. They are still Linked and he is thinking about music now; a soothing, plangent melody she does not recognise (where does he learn all this? He should have been a Cryptarch). Papa gently gathers her into his arms and carries her to the cupboard that passes for her bedroom. She grumbles in protest when he lays her on her bed but he shushes her softly and bids her to sleep through the Link.  It is more effective than any lullaby. “She’ll be here when you wake.”

When sleep takes her, she dreams of roaring brooks, calling birds and how wonderful it would be to swap the prison of a cramped, windowless pod for a sun-dappled bower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia realises how precarious her family's position is.

Sofia is nine years old and she is in trouble. She is sitting in her teacher’s office along with her classmate, Marcus. She glances at the other child. Marcus’ bottom lip is swollen and bleeding while Sofia has a bruise beneath her left eye which is beginning to ripen nicely. The boy wipes the back of his hand across his nose and immediately starts whimpering and crying. He must have momentarily forgotten about the right hook to the nose Sofia had dealt him just before their fight was broken up. Sofia smirks. Crying is not exactly against the rules but it is discouraged. It’s a waste of water.

Sofia’s self satisfaction does not last long. Both her parents arrive and they are clearly not happy. There is a man she does not recognise with them. From the way he is glaring at Mama and Papa, she assumes he is Marcus’ father.

Mama nods respectfully to the teacher before turning to her daughter. “Ms. Sadler. Fighting, Sofie?” Disappointment is etched on her face. “Really? What’s got into you?”

Sofia shrugs and lets her gaze drop to the floor. She cradles her right hand in her left. She did not realise throwing a punch could hurt that much. “He was being mean. I got mad.”

Ms. Sadler explains that while Marcus should not have provoked her, violence towards a fellow Awoken is never acceptable. They are trying to build something here so cooperation is vital. Fighting is not to be tolerated. The boy’s father nods and harumphs in agreement with the lecture. Mama continues to look disappointed. Papa folds his arms and his face takes on that sceptical expression it always does when the subject of They Who Make the Rules comes up.

“What did he say?” Papa asks quietly.

“I’m sorry?” Ms. Sadler looks confused.

“What did the lad say to set Sofie off like that?”

“Does it matter?” Retorts Marcus’ father, angry and incredulous. “Your daughter nearly broke my son’s nose, who cares what he said?”

“It matters. I care.” Papa does not raise his voice but he is all the more intimidating for it. “Well?”

Ms. Sadler fields the question as tactfully as she possibly can, “He uh, made some disparaging remarks about you and your wife’s political views.”   

Papa raises an eyebrow. “Politics. They were fighting over politics?”

“He called you traitors!” Sofia interjects, scowling at Marcus.

“Well. That’s a strong word.” Papa turns to face the boy’s father. “I wonder where he picked it up?”

“As I said,” Ms. Sadler interrupts, “There was fault on both sides here, I’m sure we can patch things up and move on.” She plasters a smile on her face. “Hm?” Despite her best efforts at diplomacy, she obviously feels the situation getting away from her. Mama and Papa are both staring down the other man. They look like patching things up is the furthest thing from their minds. Ms. Sadler hastily brings proceedings to a close, extracting grudging apologies from the children and assurances that this will not happen again from the adults.

After they file out of the office, Marcus’ father snarls at Papa, “You know, The Reef would probably be better off if people like you did leave.”

Mama rounds on him, “People like him?” She points at Papa, “He risks his life every other day to keep people like  _you_  safe! What great deeds have you done for The Reef lately?”

“You’re dissidents, we don’t need that kind of-”

“Mara Sov doesn’t need people who have the gall to think for themselves, I know.”

Papa lays a gentle hand on Mama’s arm. “Leave it.”

“No, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that!”

Papa flickers his gaze to Sofia, then back to Mama. “Please.”

Mama’s expression immediately softens when she sees her daughter. Sofia has shrunk back, clinging to Papa’s arm. His cloak has draped itself around her and she considers hiding her face in it. Her mouth is dry and she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. She cannot shake the feeling that her parents might be in more trouble than she is. She does her best not to cry.

“Just keep that little hooligan away from my son,” the man snaps before stalking away.

“Likewise,” Mama hisses. Sofia has never seen her so angry. Mama hunkers down to Sofia’s level and coaxes her out of her sanctuary under Papa’s cloak.  “Let me have a look at you.” Mama tenderly frames Sofia’s face in her hands and studies the bruise on her cheek. “Yes, you’re going to have quite the shiner by tomorrow morning.” She fixes her amber eyes on Sofia’s. “You steer clear of  that boy. And if anyone else has a go at you, just walk away, you hear me?”

Sofia nods vigorously and swallows down another lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she says in a tiny voice. “Have I got you and Papa in trouble?”

“No,” Mama pulls her into a hug. “No, sweetheart. Don’t take any notice of what that man said, that’s nothing to do with you.”

“What’s a dissident?” Sofia enunciates each unfamiliar syllable carefully.

“It’s…” Mama pulls back and looks to Papa as if for reassurance. Papa hangs his head. “It’s someone who disagrees with the people in charge. And isn’t afraid to say so.”

“Oh.” Sofia  looks up her father. His brow is furrowed and his shoulders hunched.

“It’s not an entirely inaccurate description. I’m sorry, Starshine, we never meant for any of this to hurt you. That’s the last thing we wanted.”

“It’s okay. I promise I won’t hit anyone else.” Sofia positions herself between her parents. “Can we go home now?” Papa nods and takes her hand in his. Sofia winces and immediately pulls back. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My hand hurts,” Sofia replies, then adds in an ashamed mumble, “from when I hit Marcus.”

“I’ll have to teach you how to throw a punch properly, one day.”

“Oh, don’t encourage her!” Mama exclaims, aghast.

“Hey, you were ready to take a swing at that guy,” counters Papa.

“Yes, but I didn’t.”

“I’m not saying she should start fights, I just don’t think it would hurt if she knew how to finish them.”

Mama sighs. “That’s it. You’re both grounded.”

Sofia giggles, “You can’t ground Papa.”

Mama smirks and taps the ‘Flight Engineer’ insignia on her jumpsuit. “Oh yes I can.”

 ~*~

Sofia sleeps fitfully that night. There’s a knot in the pit of her stomach that refuses to untie, despite her parents’ assurances that everything will be all right. She rolls over in an attempt to get comfortable and presses her bruised cheek against her hand. The pain jolts her fully awake. She can hear Mama and Papa talking in the next room so she assumes it cannot be too late. She checks her chronometer which shows it is gone zero-two hundred hours. Why are they still up? She lies still and just listens for a while. She cannot make out what they are saying but they sound upset. The knot tightens anew. Is this because of her? Are they arguing because of what she did? She slips out of bed and tip-toes to the door. She opens it a crack.

From this angle, she can see Papa. He’s sitting down, resting his elbows on the table which serves as a dining table, kitchen surface and occasionally, a make-shift work-bench for Mama. He’s rubbing his forehead, as though he is trying to massage away his worry lines, but only succeeds in creating new ones. Sofia can’t see Mama but she can hear her.

“I understand what you’re saying. I don’t like this any more than you do but it’s dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous  _here_!” Papa extends his hands, palms up, in an entreating gesture. “We live on wrecked ships. Debris. Stations cobbled together from salvage-”

“The mining operations and foundries are up and running now, it’ll get better.” Mama paces into view, gnawing on a thumbnail in between speaking.

“When?” Papa exhales sharply, something between laughter and a sigh. “We’ve had so many near misses, so many near disasters with the engineering in this place. You understand that better than anyone.”

“And the Fallen are heading to Earth, more every day. You understand  _that_  better than anyone. They don’t know we’re here.”

“You know what, you’re right. We  _are_  safe from the Fallen here. We have weapons, tech, ships and as you say, newly-minted mines and foundries and what do we do with them? Nothing. Do we help the people left on Earth? No, we hide behind this nebula. It’s wrong.”

Mama runs her hand through her hair and paces out of view. “That’s very noble, but we have a daughter to think about.”

Papa’s face falls. He’s quiet for a time. It can only be a few seconds but it feels like an an eternity in the ensuing silence. When he finally does speak, Sofia has to strain to hear him. “What is that supposed to mean?” Another silence. “She is all I think about.”

“I’m sorry.” Mama is back in view. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We weren’t meant to live like this. Do you want our daughter growing up in darkness, behind bulkheads? Breathing nothing but recycled air? Never seeing the sun?”

“I know you want what’s best for Sofie, I know that.” Mama slips into Papa’s lap and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “But how can you be sure things are any better on Earth?”

“They have to be. There has to be something better than this.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident, a meeting and a decision.

Sofia is ten years old and they are having a history lesson in school. Earlier in the morning, Papa had asked Sofia what she thought history is. 

 

“It’s what happened in the past.”

 

“”No,” he replied in that serious way of his. “It’s the study of what people  _ said _ happened in the past. Never forget that.”

 

They are studying Book One of the Maraid in class. It describes how the Awoken came to be, how the Reef was formed. Sofia thinks this is a strange place to start. She is fairly certain that History goes back a lot further than that, is has to. Papa’s poems are hundreds of years old, he said so. She decides not to say anything in class, mindful of her family’s private set of Rules. She will ask her parents about it later. 

 

Sofia sits, elbows on her desk, chin in her hands. She’s pretending to listen to Ms. Sadler explain how Queen Mara saved them all from certain doom but instead, she is daydreaming about one of Papa’s poems, the one about the daffodils. It is a funny word. Daff-o-dil. Far too silly-sounding for such a pretty thing. At least, she imagines they are pretty. Ms. Sadler is droning on, something about Starlight and Darkness, while Sofia is fixated upon images of yellow flowers, blue skies and a carpet of green as far as the eye can see. Once she has the image fixed in her mind, she is loathe to let it go. It is so hard to properly visualise anything that is not in shades of blue, black or Royal Purple. 

 

“Sofia?” Ms. Sadler’s voice cuts through Sofia’s reverie.

 

“Yes?”

 

What did I just say?” 

 

Sofia has no idea. She was far too busy wandering in her head, lonely as a cloud.

 

“Uh,” she hazards a reasonable guess. “It was about Queen Mara?”

 

“No. If you’d been paying attention-”

 

Ms. Sadler is interrupted by a sudden rumble that seemingly reverberates throughout the whole station. Sofia grabs the edges of her desk to steady herself, expecting a shockwave to rock the little classroom. She feels vibration through her feet but nothing more. 

 

“Stay in your seats.” Ms. Sadler heads towards a console behind her desk. She calls for silence as a ripple of chatter breaks out among the children. She frowns at a read out before announcing that class is dismissed and everyone is to return to their quarters and stay there until further notice. “Come along,” she says with forced brightness. “Quickly now, but no running. Two by two.”

 

The class pair off and file out in not quite as orderly a fashion as their teacher would have liked. Cries of “What’s going on?” and “Are we evacuating?” echo down the corridor. 

 

“No one is evacuating, just…” She hesitates, as though she were unsure that she can project enough of an aura of calm. “There will be an announcement in due course.”

 

Sofia knows it is foolish to expect a straight answer from one of Them. She opts to get information from a source who is not programmed to lie. She spots a Frame standing at the end of the corridor. She breaks away from her classmates and and marches up to it.

 

“Frame? What caused the noise at fourteen-twenty hours?”

 

The robot swivels its head to face her. “Explosive decompression in Hangar Six.”

 

Sofia pales and just stares for a second or two. Mama and Papa are stationed in Hangar Six. 

 

“Are my parents okay?” She quavers.

 

“Casualties reported. Identities unknown,” it replies in its maddeningly calm voice. 

 

“Are my parents okay?” Sofia raises her voice. She knows she’s breaking the Rules here but she’s past caring. “My mother is flight engineer -”

 

Someone grabs her wrist before she can scream her parents’ names and ranks in this useless Frame’s stupid, oblong face.

 

“Sofie…” Marcus is pulling her back into line. “You’re not supposed to do that. Come on.” His lips are set in a thin line and he is frowning deeply. Sofia cannot believe he cares about the Rules at a time like this. She is ready to punch him again (and she would know how this time. Papa taught her). She is about to yell at him to let go when she notices that his mouth is curving distinctly downwards and his chin is wobbling. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“My dad’s in Hangar Six too.” There is a hitch in his breathing and his voice is strained. 

 

Sofia puts aside her animosity and slips her hand into his. She can forgiving. “It’ll be okay.” She can be brave. “They do drills for this sort of thing.”

 

Marcus nods but his brows remain stubbornly knotted together . Sofia is not sure she believes it either but she feels strongly that someone should say it. 

 

When Sofia arrives at her pod she gives Marcus’ hand a firm squeeze while saying, “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

 

Marcus nods and repeats the mantra. “It’ll be okay.” If they say if often enough, it will become true. He lets go of Sofia’s hand with some degree of reluctance and heads towards his own pod. 

 

Sofia shuts the door and takes a seat at the table. Then she moves to the couch, perching on the edge. Then back to the table. She finally decamps to her bedroom. She grabs a stuffed rabbit toy off the shelf and curls into a foetal position on her little cot. She has told herself for the longest time that she is getting too old for the toy (what even is a rabbit, anyway?) but today, she clutches it to her as though her life depends on it. She stares across the expanse of the pod at the front door, waiting for some sign of movement. For all her grousing about how cramped the pod is, the thought of Mama and Papa never coming home again makes the place seem cavernous.

 

She glances at her chronometer periodically, each time expecting at least an hour to have gone by, only to see that the time has only advanced by a matter of minutes. She curls her fingers into her toy rabbit until her knuckles turn white, and her muscles start to ache from lying rigid and unmoving. After a seeming eternity, she hears the door seal pop and she springs back into a sitting position. She does not realise she has been holding her breath until the door finally opens and Mama walks through. Sofia exhales sharply before covering her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob. She does not remember running across the pod to meet her mother. One moment she is sitting on her bed, the next she is flinging her arms around Mama’s waist and sobbing into her coveralls. 

 

Mama crouches down and to Sofia’s level and hugs her back just as fiercely. “Did someone tell you what happened?”

 

“I asked a Frame,” she whimpers in response. “Papa?” She asks, fearful of the answer.

 

“He’s out on patrol, he wasn’t there. He’s fine.” Mama insists she’s fine too but she is trembling, her hands are ice cold and she refuses every attempt Sofia makes to Link with her.

 

~*~

 

They pile into a cramped room in one of 10 Hygiea’s libraries. Sofia stares in wonder around the walls. They are covered in shelves which are packed with books, hard drives and engrams. She is dying to rifle through them but she is under strict instructions not to touch anything. Sofia turns her attention to the other people assembled. There are all sorts; Engineers like Mama, pilots like Papa, maintenance workers, archivists and even three Cryptarchs. Sofia stifles a giggle. Their bright yellow robes make them look like three intellectual daffodils.

 

Mama had not been sure if Sofia should have come to this meeting but Papa was adamant. “She’s old enough to understand. She deserves a say.”

 

Sofia can hear voices engaged in a spirited back and forth discussion but she finds it hard to follow the conversation with the crush of bodies obscuring her view of who is speaking. Papa eventually notices her standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck so he lifts her onto a library ladder. He holds her around her waist to steady her. 

 

“Don’t fall.” Papa whispers, smiling. “You mother would have my hide.” Sofia smiles back, wraps her arms around his neck and grips his shoulder. She turns her attention back to the meeting. Two of the Cryptarchs are arguing. 

 

“We have everything we need here. I see no sense in taking off into the unknown. We have defences, food, water -”

 

“Our material needs yes but-”

 

“What is more important than that, Rahool?” Counters the first Cryptarch. “This is a matter of survival.”

 

“I have no desire to live in a city of pigs,” The one called Rahool snaps back.

 

“Pigs? What  _ are _ you talking about?”

 

“Oh read a book, Ives.”

 

Sofia frowns in puzzlement but Papa is smiling softly. She leans in to whisper, “What  _ is _ he talking about?”

 

“He means there’s more to life than survival. There’s leisure, art, beauty. They’re important too.”

 

“Oh. I get that.” She nods until something else occurs to her. “What’s a pig?”

 

Papa shushes her gently, “Later.”

 

Another voice pipes up. “But he’s right though. Earth is dangerous, the Fallen -”

 

“The Fallen are manageable.” Papa does not raise his voice but somehow manages to cut through the hub-bub. “Besides, we should be uniting with Earth, not leaving the people there to their fate.”

 

“Well that’s very brave, very noble and perhaps rather too easy for someone in your position to say. We’re not all soldiers here.”

 

“If arguing from morality won’t convince you, very well. How about pragmatism? Earth has resources we could use, we have resources Earth could use. I see no advantage to this division.”

 

“We’re Awoken, we are not human,” that Cryptarch called Ives chimes in. “You may not see the sense in it but the division is there, whether you want it or not. Assuming we returned to Earth, there’s no guarantee they’d accept us.”

 

“We’re more alike than we are different,” Rahool steps into the fray again.

 

“And humankind has a long history of being accepting of difference,” Ives replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Surely you of all people shouldn’t need a primer on that?” 

 

“I like to think that we haven’t lost everything that the Golden Age gave us.” Rahool’s fists are clenched in front of him and his words are clipped. 

 

“That’s just wishful thinking. You can hope Earth will be safe all you want but we  _ know _ we’re safe here.”

 

“I lost eight members of my crew last week!” Mama isn’t yelling but she is not exactly calm either. Ives sits back in his chair a little, as though pushed back by the force of her words. “Two in the explosion, six got spaced. I was lucky I was hooked on, I’d have joined them if I hadn’t been. More than a dozen injured. Do  _ not _ talk to me about safe.”

 

Sofia’s gaze drops to the floor. Marcus has not been in school since the accident. She thinks his father must have died. She did not much like him, from what she saw of him but she feels for Marcus. She hopes whatever happened to his father was quick. She does not want to think of the alternative. It’s too horrible. 

 

Ives does not speak at first. He just looks at hands which are clasped in front of him. He will not look at Mama. Sofia does not blame him. When Mama and Papa stand shoulder to shoulder like this, she suspects the Darkness itself would think twice before taking them on. He eventually sighs and turns to Rahool.

 

“I can’t be a part of this, I’m sorry.” Ives’ voice is soft, like his words are directed only at Rahool. He stands and nods respectfully to the female Cryptarch. “Mistress Karn. I shall endeavour to keep the libraries in good order should you decide to leave.” He glances briefly at Rahool again before heading for the exit. Rahool goes to reach after him but this Mistress Karn shakes her head, lays a hand on his arm and gently lowers it back down. The room stays silent for a moment, as if everyone is unsure what to do now.

 

“What is our youngest attendee’s opinion?” The female Cryptarch fixes her gaze on Sofia. “After all, it is the young who will need to deal with the repercussions of what we decide here.”

 

Sofia freezes, acutely aware that dozens of pairs of eyes are suddenly trained on her. She glances at her parents for reassurance. 

 

“Just say what you think, sweetheart.” Mama smiles encouragingly. “Don’t say what you think we want to hear. Be honest.”

 

“Uhm.” She coughs, then takes a deep breath. “The Fallen scare me. I think there could be lots of things about Earth that would scare me but…” She pauses to get her breath again. Her lungs seem too small all of a sudden. “The Reef is cramped. It’s dark. The water keeps getting turned off. And if anything goes wrong, people could die. At least on Earth, we wouldn’t have to worry about being sucked into space if we open the wrong door or flip the wrong switch. We wouldn’t run out of air if an engine broke down.” She takes another deep breath, feeling the words come more easily now. “And Earth has trees and rain and waterfalls and birds and clouds. And bowers. And daffodils. I want to see that. Don’t see why I shouldn’t get to just because I’m Awoken.”   

 

Mistress Karn steeples her fingers and smiles softly. “If you were told you could leave for Earth would you go?”

 

Sofia knows she should probably take a moment to think before responding but she knows her answer. She has known it for two years now. “Yes.”

 

“And what if you were told that if you left, you could never come back?”

 

Sofia nods emphatically. “Still yes.”

 

She senses both her parents on the periphery of her mind, waiting for permission to enter. She opens her thoughts to them and is suddenly deluged with Mama and Papa’s pride in her. She wobbles on her ladder perch a little, knocked off-balance by this happy onslaught. She rights herself and smiles sheepishly, the colour rising in her cheeks.

 

“This is all well and good, Tyra,” Rahool is speaking again but far less stridently now. It is like he has lost much of the fight in him since Ives walked out, “but this entire discussion may be moot. We’re assuming the Queen will just let us leave, and there’s no guarantee of that.”

 

“I’ll speak with the Queen, leave her to me.” Mistress’ Karn’s voice remains calm and measured. Sofia suspects that there is very little that could faze her.

 

“What if she says no?” asks a young corsair. He looks agitated, scowling and fidgeting with his gloves. “Do we just roll over and accept that?”

 

“I doubt it would come to that, it wouldn’t be politically expedient for her. I know Mara Sov. She is many things but she is not stupid. She knows there would be resistance and she knows that would be damaging for her. Far better for her to appear magnanimous.”

 

“Resistance is a mild word for it,” the young corsair growls and folds his arms.

 

Sofia broadcasts ripples of fear to her still-Linked parents.  _ What does he mean? Is there going to be fighting? _

 

_ No sweetheart,  _ Mama replies silently.  _ It won’t come to that. You heard Tyra Karn. _

 

_ But what if it does? _

  
Then Papa is in her head, calm but resolute.  _ I’ll protect you, Starshine. I’ll always protect you, never doubt that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Rahool is imploring Ives to read is Plato's Republic. Also, I never thought I would end up shipping those two but here we are.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Awoken arrive on earth and things are not going to plan.

Sofia is twelve years old. There is blue sky above her, earth beneath and she is soaking wet. She kneels on all fours, her fingers sinking into wet sand, while her mouth is open in a silent gasp. She cannot breathe. Underneath the panic, a small voice at the back of her mind wonders if this is what getting spaced feels like. She feels a sudden jolt, there is something thumping into her back. She starts coughing, a harsh, hacking sound that is interrupted by another whack between her shoulder blades. 

“Breathe, Sofie, come on!” It’s Mama, she keeps slapping her on her back, hard, until Sofia convulses, bringing up a stream of water and bile. She wheezes, then coughs even more violently than before. Her throat is burning and her eyes are streaming with tears but at least her stubborn lungs are finally filling.

Mama wraps her arms around her, pulling her back into a kneeling position. She drops frantic kisses on the top of Sofia’s head in between assurances that she's okay, they’re okay, everything is going to be okay. 

Mama releases her from the embrace and comes round to face her. She cups Sofie’s tear-streaked cheeks in in her hands and locks her gaze with hers..

“Stay here.” There's a quaver in Mama’s voice but she sounds determined. “I'm going back for your father, don't move.”

Sofia nods, tries to speak but only manages another coughing fit. She flops back on her heels, watching her mother wade back into the water and towards their stricken ship. One of the engines belches smoke into the air, forming a black column that reaches far up into the sky. They came down in a shallow sea, the belly of the ship resting on a sandbank while the nosecone is tipped forward into the water. There are low, sickening sounds of twisting, groaning metal coming from the ship. It is sinking even further? Sofia thought she had heard someone yelling something about a hull breach when the Fallen had attacked them. Maybe it is taking on more water.

Sofia sends out a desperate mental plea to Papa, begging him to tell her he got out of the cockpit, that Mama won’t have to risk going back into the submerged ship, that she was not lying when she everything would be okay. Sofia immediately winces after opening her mind, she can’t hear Papa, or Mama. If they were answering her attempt to Link, they are utterly drowned out by the cacophony of terror emanating from the survivors. She hastily closes her thoughts off, pulling her knees up to her chest and clamping her hands over her ears. The noise in her head dulls somewhat but it does little to drown out the shouts and screams from the survivors scrambling towards dry land. Some thrash ineffectually, trying to learn to swim after a lifetime of rationed water, while others cling to floating debris. Sofia glances around to see a group pulling a woman out of the water and up the beach. It looks like Mistress Karn. She is not moving. 

Her attention is suddenly diverted by the sound of her mother yelling. Sofia follows the sound of her voice to see her fighting with a man who is trying to drag her back to dry land. 

“Let me go!” Mama shouts, clawing at his hands which are clamped firmly around her waist. 

“They’re gone, you can’t go back in, it’s too dangerous!” The man tugs at Mama, almost lifting her off her feet.

“You don’t know that.” Mama replies through gritted teeth, straining against him. 

“If the impact didn’t do for them they’ll have drowned by now, don’t go back in there!” 

Sofia’s stomach lurches and her blood runs cold. If she was shivering before, she is shaking uncontrollably now. She tries Linking with Papa again, doing her best to ignore the fear and misery being broadcast by the others around her. She wordlessly screams to him over and over, receiving only silence in return. 

“Please let me go.” Mama is not struggling anymore, she just leans away from her well-meaning captor and towards the ship. 

“Do you want your daughter to lose her mother too?” When he says this, the last of the fight seems to leave Mama. Her shoulders drop and she removes the man’s hands from her waist. She wipes a hand down her face before giving him a forceful shove to the chest. The fight was not completely gone from her after all. The man topples over backwards, landing with an undignified splash. Mama trudges back towards Sofia without giving him a second glance. 

“Mama?” Sofia whimpers, looking up at her mother with wide, pleading eyes. Mama’s only reply is to kneel beside Sofia and gather her into her arms. She hugs her tightly and rocks her back and forth. Sofia clings back, her still painful breathing now coming in harsh sobs. She gives in to her tears, it will not matter if she cries down here. There is no shortage of water. There is so much of it, it terrifies her.

~*~

Once the panic died down, some of the (now ex) Corsairs set to work establishing a defensive perimeter. They pace back and forth, eyes on the horizon, checking and re-checking their weapons to make sure the water has not rendered them completely useless. Other survivors dug foxholes and formed make-shift barricades from debris should the Fallen who attacked them come back for their prize. They would not be hard to find, the smoke billowing from the damaged engine is a signal fire to anyone around. Others still comb the shoreline picking up anything useful that may have washed ashore, while the braver ones wade further into the water to retrieve salvage. 

Sofia trails behind her mother who is scouring the tideline for anything she can repair or put to use. The tide is coming in, covering the ship even more. Sofia drags her feet, leaving scuff marks in the sand. The only time she moves quickly is to avoid the water when it threatens to lap at her feet. She wants nothing more than to retreat to high ground but she is not willing to let Mama out of her sight. Her head is throbbing and there is a dull ache in her chest. Is it meant to hurt like this? She finds herself thinking about Marcus. Did he find it physically painful when his father died? 

“Mama?” Sofia asks in a dull voice. “Why do I feel so heavy?” 

“It’s because you are heavier, sweetheart.” Mama places her arm around Sofia’s shoulders. “It’s the gravity, it’s different down here. You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She knew that. Papa had told her that things would feel different on Earth. She had just forgotten.

“Why don’t you get some rest?”

Sofia shakes her head. “I want to help.” 

“Why don’t you go sit with the other kids?” Mama suggests gently. They got a fire going, it’s warmer.”

Sofia shakes her head and disguises a shiver. “I’m fine.” She spots something in the distance, bobbing back and forth as the water laps against it. It is her toy rabbit. He is waterlogged and filthy but it is definitely him. She crosses over to him, gingerly fishes him out of the water before wringing him out. Tears prick at her eyes again, she feels like the pathetic state of her childhood toy is reflective of their current plight. She blinks furiously, trying to fight back the tears, while her brow knots together, making her headache even worse. She should not be getting this emotional over a stuffed toy. She is far too old for him really but she had so wanted him with her when they boarded their transport at the start of this ill-fated diaspora. When the Fallen had fired upon them, she had clung to him for dear life. She could not be sure exactly when she had lost him. Probably when the emergency doors were forced open and the water had rushed in, cold and relentless. But he had come back to her somehow, and she was glad of it. 

Sofia feels Mama’s hand on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.

“Oh, you found Peter.” 

Sofia nods sadly and sniffles before trying to brush the worst of the sand and grime from his fur.

“It’s okay we’ll get him cleaned up. Why don’t you take him back to the fire, get him dried-”

Mama is cut off by a sharp crashing sound coming from the sky, followed by a low rumble. For a moment, Sofia wonders if it is thunder. No, that is not how thunder works. There would be clouds if it were thunder but the sky is a brilliant blue. The only other thing it could be is a ship entering the atmosphere. 

Mama grabs Sofia’s hand and begins running, dragging her along with her up the beach.  
“Is it the Fallen?” Sofia cries, “Did they come back?”

“It’ll be okay,” Mama assures her, herding her towards where the other children are gathered behind a makeshift barricade made from debris. “We’ve got weapons, we can fight them off.” Sofia is not exactly convinced by her mother’s insistence that everything will be fine. Sofia can smell the panic in the air, while sharp outbursts of fear and despair pierce the beleaguered shields she has placed around her mind.

Inhuman shrieks begin to sound in the distance, followed by shouts and gunfire. One of the younger children starts crying with a high-pitched keening sound. Sofia wraps her arms around the child and begins intoning exactly the same lies that her mother had just told her. Sofia glances up at Mama. One of the corsairs-turned-guards has given her a side-arm, which she wields with obvious uncertainty. Mama shoots Sofia a trembling smile. Sofia does not need to Link with mama to know she is afraid but there is unmistakable pride in her expression too. 

The ex-corsair ducks out from their cover and starts firing. Sofia starts and gasps. She was not prepared for how loud the guns would be. The other kids are weeping now too and frankly, Sofia wants to join them. She can brave though. She can still be brave. 

Her courageous resolve lasts another thirty seconds or so, until their protector’s head snaps backward, before he topples over, landing on his back with a sickening thud. The atmosphere in their little shelter gives way to outright panic. While the other children scream and surge to the back of the foxhole, Sofia feels an odd calm come over her. Her world slows and she focusses on the small details around her. The thin plume of smoke rising from the centre of their dead guard’s forehead. The residual twitch in his fingertips. The uncontrollable tremble in Mama’s hand even as she swears she’ll keep them safe. The pain in her arms from the other child digging his fingernails into her skin. 

There is a tiny gap in the barricade at Sofia’s eye level. She stares through it at the advancing Fallen. She has never seen one before, not in the flesh but it is not fear she feels now, or even anger. She is confused. Why are they doing this? Why did they attack their ship? Why did they murder that man? Why can they not just let them be?

The Vandals in the distance look ready to close on their position when they are suddenly peppered with gunfire coming from the right. One of them is hit in the head, which explodes with an almost comical popping sound. The Fallen turn their attention to this new threat but immediately begin to retreat. There is an armoured figure charging towards them. Sofia’s curiosity and confusion increase. Why are the Fallen fleeing? This is just one person, what could they possibly do? The runner suddenly begins to glow white and pale blue, tendrils of electricity converging in their fists. They leap into the air, closing the gap between them and the retreating Fallen by tracing a graceful arc through the air. They then plummet to the earth, slamming their electrified fists into the ground. The Fallen glow brilliantly for a fraction of a second before being vapourised. 

Sofia realises she has been holding her breath. She exhales slowly, unable to comprehend what she is seeing. She watches this strange, armoured soldier casting around for another opponent. They show no inclination to run for cover. They clearly do not fear another attack, quite the opposite. They stand defiantly out in this open ground, brazenly inviting the Fallen to try their luck a second time. 

They begin walking towards their shelter. Whoever this person is, they are utterly unlike the soldiers of the Reef with their elegant uniforms and compact side-arms. This person’s armour is hefty plate metal, while they carry a massive machine gun on their back. Their face is obscured by a helm that looks like the sort of thing a Knight from the Old Earth stories would wear. Once they are a little closer they remove that helm, revealing jaw-length auburn hair and grey eyes decorated with black kohl. She is definitely human but no human should be able to do the things Sofia just saw. 

The cowering Awoken and the warrior regard each other in curious silence for a few moments, both parties unsure of what to do next. The armoured woman eventually takes the lead. She waves; a hand that only moments before had dealt out lightning and death, now raised in greeting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia makes new friends, while hopes are dashed.

Sofia hovers close by a group of grown-ups who are urgently discussing the events of the last few hours. She edges close enough to eavesdrop but not so close as to be noticed. 

“I don’t like it,” says one. “Human beings shouldn’t be able to to that. It’s unnatural”

“Well, they used those  _ unnatural _ powers to save us,” Mama retorts. “My daughter is alive because of them, so for now, I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt.”

“They saved us, yes, but why? Out of the goodness of their own hearts? I don’t buy it. None of this makes sense. Come on, Lucilla, it’s  _ weird. _ ”

“Of course it’s weird!” Mama hisses in response. “The Traveler is weird. The Collapse was weird. Humans mutating into Awoken overnight is weird. Quite frankly, I’d have been more confused if we’d arrived on Earth and nothing down here was weird.”

“Those…” One of the group pauses to search for the right word, “Those  _ people _ , whatever they are...they are _ beyond _ weird. And after what happened to Tyra?”

“We don’t know what happened to Tyra.” Mama sounds unsure for the first time.

“I don’t like this, I really don't like this.” He mumbles his next words, shaking his head. “We should never have left the Reef.”

“Oh don’t start that again…” Mama sighs and covers her face with one hand, tiredly rubbing her forehead.

Sofia retreats back to the bonfire and thinks on what she just overheard. Her thoughts keep coming back to Mistress Karn. She had been laid out with the other casualties, covered with whatever lengths of cloth they could find to preserve their dignity; blankets, coats, cloaks. The sad little row of bodies’ peace was disturbed when a small flying robot had come along and shone a light on each of the corpses in turn. One of the guards had tried to shoo the thing away but it would not be dissuaded from its task. It alighted on Mistress Karn’s remains and did a pirouette in mid-air, as though it was delighted with what it had found. The points of its chassis splayed out and orbited around a sphere of light emanating from its core and then...Sofia cannot be sure of what happened then. It shone another beam of light on Mistress Karn’s body and the makeshift shroud covering her was flung away, flung away by Mistress Karn, who suddenly sat bold upright, gasping for air as though she were drowning. She _ had _ been drowning, Sofia supposed. That is probably how she died.

All hell broke loose, the survivors surged around her and Sofia’s view was blocked. She heard a voice calling for them to get back, to give her room. It was one of the warriors who had saved them from the Fallen. No one was inclined to argue with him, not after what they had seen what they were capable of. Sofia does not understand much of what was happening save the following: Mistress Karn was dead but now she is alive. Those little robots that followed the warriors around are clearly able to bring people back to life. Sofia is determined to get to the bottom of it. She decides it is best to go straight to the source, that strategy always worked well for her in the Reef. There are no Frames to badger here so she supposes the best thing to do is to just ask one of the warriors. But which one?

There had been four of them. They attacked the Fallen from all sides, swift and coordinated. There  was the woman who had saved Sofia, her mother and the other children. There was a large man with a thick beard and stern demeanour, the one who had protected Tyra when she had been revived. Whenever he spoke, people seemed to do as he said, he had that aura of authority about him. He is still occupied with Mistress Karn so, he is not an option. Besides, Sofia is too nervous to take up the time of the one she assumes is the group’s leader. There was a slim, severe-looking woman with close-cropped hair but she is busy talking with some of the corsairs, probably discussing the defences they had set up. And there was a man. Sofia had no idea what he looks like, he has not taken off his helm. Sofia decides she will not be approaching him with questions. There is something frightening about him. With its delicate, gold-coloured inlays, his helm would be beautiful, if it were not so facelelessly intimidating. Then there is the massive battle-axe he rests on his shoulder as though it weighs nothing and the way he slowly circles the perimeter of the camp. There is something predatory about the way he moves. No. Definitely not him, he is far too scary. She decides to seek out the woman with the red hair and the pretty eyes. She has a kind smile.

Sofia approaches her slowly. She halts a few feet from her. Sofia did not appreciate quite how tall this woman was, now that she is up close and alone. Sofia takes a deep breath and clears her throat. She is still brave. Despite everything that has happened, she can still be brave. The tall woman turns towards the noise and smiles benevolently down at her.

“Hello,” she says. “Are you alright, little one?”

Sofia considers the question for a moment. If she were truthful she would answer,  _ I’m cold, I’m afraid, my feet feel like they have lead weights attached to them and every time I think about my father, my chest hurts.  _  She decides it would probably not be good manners to say those things so she answers with a simple, “Yes.”

“What’s your name?” The woman asks, hunkering down to Sofia’s level.

“Sofia,” she responds, already feeling more at ease.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sofia. I’m Jolder.” She cocks her head, regarding Sofia curiously. “Did you need something? You look like you have something to say.”

Sofia leads with “Thank you. For what you did.” She decides that it is prudent to be polite. Besides it is the truth, she is grateful.

“No need to thank us.” Jolder smiles again, forming faint lines beneath that striking black eye make-up. “It’s what we do.”

Sofia nods. “Still. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t have come.” She takes a breath as if to speak again then hesitates. She glances across the beach, towards where Mistress Karn is sitting with the leader.

“What is it, child?” Jolder asks, concern and empathy radiating from her features. “It’s alright to be afraid, you’ve been through so much. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What happened to Mistress Karn?” Sofia finally blurts out. “What was that little robot? It was following you around.”

“Mistress Karn?” Jolder follows Sofia’s gaze. “Is that her name? You know her?”

Sofia nods again. “Tyra Karn. She’s a cryptarch. She’s nice but…” She swallows hard before continuing. “She was dead. I saw her being brought up the beach.”

“It’s hard to explain but, I’ll try.” Jolder settles, cross-legged on the sand and pats the space beside her. She continues when Sofia sits beside her. “She was chosen by the Traveler.”

Sofia frowns. “The Traveler? The Traveler isn’t here. We crashed before we saw the Traveler.”

“When the Darkness assaulted earth, when your ancestors fled for the asteroid belt, the Traveler died resisting it. With its dying breath, it created the Ghosts. They search for people worthy of bearing the Traveler’s Light.”

“Ghosts? Are they those weird floating robot things?”

Jolder laughs softly. “Atalanta? Come out, say hello.” Jolder holds her palm up and a small droid with a pointed chassis materialises in it. “This is my Ghost. She brought me back. She keeps me safe, so I can keep others safe. Like you and your people.”

Sofia starts slightly at the sudden appearance of the Ghost. She jumps again when the thing speaks.

“Don’t be scared.” The robot floats slowly over to Sofia. “Hello. You’ve come a long way, it’s so  _ very _ exciting that you’re here. We had no idea what happened to the colonists who left Earth. Everyone thought they were all dead but you’re here! You’ve changed but you’re here! That’s wonderful! What is it you call yourselves again?”

“Awoken,” Sofia replies, a faint smile forcing itself onto her lips.

“And you were born out there?” Atalanta shifts her central optic up towards the sky. “On a space station? Look how you adapted to the conditions up there. Is the blue skin a mutation to combat radiation? That’s  _ amazing. _ ” She turned back to her keeper. “Jolder, isn’t this amazing? Humans can survive  _ anything _ .”

Jolder breaks into a grin and chuckles. “It certainly is.”

“So…” Sofia talks to Atalanta hesitantly, feeling strange to be addressing this levitating rhomboid, “You can bring people back to life?”

“Only the special ones. And we only get one each, we search high and low to find the right person. Jolder’s mine, and I’m hers, for the rest of our lives. I got the best one. All ghosts say that, I guess, but I think it’s true for me. Jolder’s brilliant because-”

“How does someone get chosen?” Sofia interrupts the Ghost’s paean to her Light-Bearer. She is getting somewhere now, this is what she came here to find out. Sofia’s heart  hammers in her chest, fearing that the nascent hope she’s feeling will be dashed before its had a chance to bloom.

“Well,” Atalanta says, “It’s complicated. We just  _ know _ our Risen when we find them. It’s like we’ve always known them, we just don’t know where they are. They’re not always  _ wise _ , but they’re brave, clever, good fighters. That sort of thing.”

“My father’s brave and clever!” Sofia exclaims. “He’s a…” She winces, screwing her eyes shut as she corrects herself, “He  _ was  _ a Corsair. He used to scout the asteroid belt, making sure the Fallen didn’t find us. And he was wise and kind and…” She pauses, catching her breath. “Can you bring him back?”

“Ah.” Atalanta’s optic darts away from Sofia. “Oh no. Oh dear. Oh I’m so sorry. Uh. No. I can’t.”

“Then can you tell the other Ghosts to come find him?” Sofia points to the stricken ship, languishing in the water. “He’s over there. He’s only over there.”

Atalanta retreats to Jolder’s side. Jolder, for her part, covers her mouth with one hand and looks to Sofia with the utmost sympathy. “You father died in the crash?” She asks.

Sofia nods, swallowing down a lump in her throat. “But he could come back?”

“I’m so sorry, dear one,” Jolder shakes her head slowly. “That isn’t how it works.”

“Why not? They’d choose him.”

“No one really knows why the Ghosts choose the ones the do. I wish I could tell you differently but we could lead a thousand Ghosts to him and there would be no guarantee that one of them would choose him.”

“But they  _ would!”  _ Sofia insists, fat, hot tears spilling on to her cheeks. “I know they would.”

“Don’t hang on hope,” Jolder pleads but Sofia’s face crumples and she gets to her feet as the tears take hold with a vengeance. Sofia retreats back to the campfire, ignoring Jolder’s entreaties to come back. Sofia knows she shouldn’t run off like that, it’s rude. It’s against the rules to be rude. She supposes some of the rules still apply down here but she needs to get away.

Sofia drops down on the ground by the fire and pulls her knees up to her chest, gasping and hiccoughing, trying to quell that aching disbelief that seems to be eating her from the inside out. She has heard tell that Awoken are made of starlight. It sounds like something out of a poem but she so wants it to be true. She drops every mental defence she has and reaches out, praying that there’s a part of her father out there that can still hear her. There has to be. It just would not be fair otherwise.

“Will you stop that incessant caterwauling?” Sofia gasps and looks up. There’s a man standing over her, scowling and rubbing one temple. “Will you be quiet? Will you? Your father can’t hear you.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Sofia stammers, taking great gulps of air in between sobs.

“He’s not coming back, so stop broadcasting. Do you have any idea how  _ loud _ you’re being?”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” she reiterates, trying and failing to isolate her mind. “I was just-”

“You were just screaming at the top of your Link for your father to come back, he won’t. You know, we probably wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him.”

“That’s enough!” Sofia had not noticed the warrior’s approach. It is the scary one, the one with the gold helmet. His voice is harsh, matching his rough, ramshackle appearance. “She’s only a child! What is  _ wrong _ with you?”

The other Awoken steps back. “Sh-she was being loud.” It is his turn to stammer now.

“She wasn’t making a sound.”

“She was...you don’t understand.”

“I have no wish to understand why someone might think it acceptable to berate a clearly grieving child,” he growls and hefts his axe off his shoulder, letting the head land on the ground with a dull thud. “Leave her alone. Be off with you.”

The Awoken man scowls before scurrying away, muttering, “Should never have left the Reef…”

Sofia stares up the warrior. She shrinks back, still fearful, when he lays down his axe. He eases himself to the ground and sits cross-legged beside her. He finally removes that helm and begins stoking the fire as he speaks. “Don’t let that man upset you. He’s afraid, sometimes people lash out when they’re scared.” He isn’t growling anymore, his voice is soft, low and comforting. Sofia does not respond straight away. She just watches him. He does not seem so scary anymore. With his dark skin and greying hair, this man looks nothing like her father but there is something about his voice and his slow, deliberate movements that reminds her of Papa.

“I was being rude.” She finally explains in a tiny voice. “I was Linking without permission. Everyone could hear me.”

“Linking?”

“We can talk to each other with our minds. Humans can’t do it. But you’re not supposed to transmit your thoughts freely, not if you can help it. It’s against the rules.”

“But I don’t think you could help it, could you?” Sofia casts her eyes downwards and shrugs. “What’s your name?”

“Sofia,” she mumbles without looking up.

“Are you alone here, Sofia?”

She shakes her head. “Mama’s helping with the salvage. She’s an engineer.” She purses her lips in an attempt to stop her lower lip from trembling. She can’t bring herself to explain what happened to Papa again. She shivers, the sun is starting to dip below the horizon and even with the heat of the fire, she is beginning to feel a chill. She suddenly feels a weight around her shoulders. He’s taken off his cloak and draped it around her.

He offers her a canteen of water. “Here. Stay hydrated.”

Sofia looks up at him in confusion. “No. It’s too much.” He frowns in confusion which prompts the realisation in Sofia. “Oh. Yeah. There’s no water rationing here. Thank you...uhm, mister?”

“Saladin.”

“Thank you Mr. Saladin.”

He chuckles, “Just Saladin is fine but if you must insist on a title, that would be Lord.” He pauses. “And I’m just realising how pretentious that sounds.”

“What are you a lord of?” Sofia asks without a trace of guile.

“Iron. We call ourselves Iron Lords.” He points to the others in turn, “That’s Lord Radegast, Lady Perun and…” He cocks his head when he notices Jolder hovering on the periphery, looking nervous. “And that awkward looking woman there is Lady Jolder. Why is she wincing?”

“We talked earlier. I got upset,” Sofia explains glumly. “She told me my Papa couldn’t come back like Mistress Karn did.”

“Ah. I see. I’m sorry but...” He sighs deeply. “Even if a ghost found him, even if he were chosen, he wouldn’t remember you. He wouldn’t remember anything. And it’s a hard life. You don’t want this for him, believe me.”

Sofia pulls the loaned cloak around herself and mumbles into the cloth. “Things were supposed to be better down here. That’s why we came.”

“They will be, we’ll see to it. That’s why we came back.”

“Do you promise?” Saladin keeps his eyes fixed on her and nods once, slowly. Sofia wants to believe him. Her father made promises too; he had promised things would be better on Earth, that he would always protect her. Those promises died with him in that ship. This Iron Lord seems so sure of himself though. Perhaps she will let herself believe him.

“Try to get some rest,” Saladin says. “You’ve got a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a settlement nearby, a town. It’s reasonably safe. A good deal safer than here anyway.”

“Will the people there accept us?” Sofia remembers what the Cyrptarch called Ives had said at the meeting, that humans were not always understanding of difference.

“They will,” Saladin assures her. “Or they’ll answer to us.”

Sofia feels her eyelids growing heavy and pulls over a bag of supplies to use as a makeshift pillow. She lies down and lets sleep take her, knowing there will be someone to protect her that night, even if it is not her Papa.

~*~

Sofia awoke the next morning to her mother gently shaking her. She was confused for a moment. She had forgotten why she was so cold,why the air smelled so strange, so fresh. When she puts her hand out and feels sand beneath her, she remembers that she is not in her bed back in their pod in the Reef. She rises to a sitting position slowly, easing out the kinks in her stiff muscles.

“Come on Starshine,  we’re leaving,” her mother says. She looks tired. Sofia wonders if she managed to sleep last night.

Sofia gets to her feet and sees that there are more humans have arrived along with some transports. They wear armour and carry long guns with big sights on their backs. She pulls Saladin's cloak around her like a blanket and starts shuffling towards them with Mama.

“Are they Iron Lords too?”

“Are they what?” Asks Mama.

“Iron Lords.” She casts around the gathered throng until she points. “Like Lord Saladin and Lady Jolder.”

Mama puts an arm around Sofia's shoulder. “You've been on Earth less than twenty four hours and you're already making friends?”

Sofia shrugs. “They're nice.” She calls out, “Mr. Saladin sir?” Still not used to the idea of addressing people as ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady,’ “your cloak.”

Saladin raises a hand in acknowledgement and shakes his head. “You’ll grow into it. Keep it, it’s yours.”

Lady Jolder, standing by his side, chuckles and nudges him. “You getting broody again, Forge?”

Saladin rolls his eyes and replies, “No,” then after a pause, “We’ll get a dog, okay?” before crossing over to help the Awoken refugees on to the transports. He lifts Sofia up onto a truck decked out with caterpillar tracks; a sure indication of the rough terrain ahead of them. Sofia looks back, waiting for her mother to join her. She sees her standing a few feet away from the transport, staring back at the stricken ship, partially submerged in the water.

“Mama?” Sofia calls out, uncertainly. “ We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

Mama takes a deep , shuddering breath before turning to look at Sofia. She manages a tremulous smile for her daughter before stepping towards the transport. Lord Saladin offers her a hand up as she boards.

“You’ll be alright,” says Saladin has he helps Mama on to the trailer that will be their chariot to this new settlement. He shuts the doors fast before saying, “Good luck.” The drivers seemed to take this as their cue and the engines shudder to life.

Sofia waves to Saladin and Jolder as the transports pull away, while her mother curls her arms around her, keeping her gaze fixed on the crash-site, even as it slips out of view.

Years later, in the City, Sofia would often listen to conversations about whether Guardians were Angels or something else. Sofia would always come down firmly in favour of the former.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for the delay in updating this. Serves me right for starting a fic centred around the loss of a parent right before I lost both of mine. :/
> 
> I needed some time before coming back to this.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Moon OST by Clint Mansell. It was a working title originally but it just stuck.
> 
> The Link is my name for the Awoken’s latent telepathic abilities. The canon doesn’t make it clear what the extent of those abilities are but we know the Queen can communicate over vast distances with the help of the Techeuns. The very fact that she was expecting a reply implies these sorts of abilities aren’t limited to the Queen (though she’s likely the most powerful). Awoken can hear the stars “sing” to them and have visions so, yes, I think it’s fair to say even the most ordinary Awoken have some telepathic ability.
> 
> This Lime Tree Bower My Prison was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and he couldn’t go hiking with his friends because his wife had spilled boiling milk over his foot. Ow.


End file.
